


and my love is so wise and so pretty

by deviont



Series: it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Then, but thommy makes it all better, for a hot minute its fluff, of a sort like alex is out of it and digs his nails into his arms to ground himself, then alex sees john(?) and it all goes downhill, theres some cute at the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:59:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9098602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deviont/pseuds/deviont
Summary: but tonight, i'll still dream of you





	

**Author's Note:**

> okay, yes, i know, i havent updated igfims, and im sorry, i just?? cant write the next chapter to save my damn life lmao. it just wont come out how i want it. but im working on it.  
> in the meantime! more of the Alex Suffers™ verse bc it is my favorite thing to write rn. reading the second part isnt required, but i recommend reading the first otherwise this wont make much sense. underlined text is french bc i def hc alex switches to it accidentally when panicking. heed the tags, lemme know if there are any mistakes, and enjoy!!

The snow was Alex’s favorite part of the holidays. Really, it was the only thing he liked, because having any sort of extra attention made him uncomfortable, and getting gifts already made him feel like he owed the giver someone. Thomas, as always, always so gentle and kind and beautiful, Thomas was so beautiful, was understanding and said they didn’t have to do the whole gift thing, they didn’t have to do anything Alex wasn’t comfortable with. They wound up getting a tree, because Alex and John had always gotten a little fake one, pre lit, and Thomas had looked so scandalized at even the idea of Alex never having decorated a real Christmas tree.

So Thomas, only Thomas could find one in the middle of New York, took Alex to a tree farm, an honest to God tree farm with real trees, and they set to work picking one out. Thomas made sure Alex knew what their height limits were, because sure their shared apartment was rather spacious, but it certainly wasn’t big by any means. Alex had seemed almost like a child, taking his boyfriend by the hand and dragging him from tree to tree, searching for the perfect one. They finally found one that fit Alex’s standards, and at five feet, it was manageable.

That night, once they’d cleaned the tree sap from their car and their hands and cleaned up any stray pine needles, they set to work decorating. Alex insisted they use white lights and tinsel at the top of the tree, because “it could be like snow on the tree, Thomas, wouldn’t that be so cool?” and Thomas couldn’t have said no to Alex even if he wanted to. Those puppy eyes of his were completely unfair. While the older man had had his doubts, the tree ended up looking quite nice by the time they’d gotten all the lights and tinsel up, and he even managed to find some white glass ornaments that nicely reflected the lights at the top. Though, in Thomas’ opinion, the smile on his boyfriend’s face lit the room up far more than any Christmas lights could ever hope to.

By the time they were done, Thomas realized he’d forgotten his tradition of hot cocoa while decorating. But, seeing as they still had to decorate the rest of the apartment with what little Christmas knick knacks Thomas had, he figured they could take a break now and make some to drink while they finish up. Alex’s face when Thomas pulled out instant mix wasn’t quite aghast, but it was pretty close. He insisted that if they were going to drink hot cocoa, they were going to drink real hot cocoa. Upon finding out they didn’t have marshmallows, or chocolate to make flakes with, Alex grabbed his coat and declared he was going to the store to get proper ingredients. Thomas rolled his eyes at his boyfriend’s antics, but allowed the man to go. Alex knew to call or text if anything happened, and the store was right down the street anyway. Alex would be fine.

  
♪ ♪ ♪

  
Alex felt anxiety crawling around his chest the moment he was out the door, broiling and angry and making his hands shake. He shouldn’t have said anything, because that had surely come off as ungrateful and now Thomas would probably hate him. No, Thomas wouldn’t hate him, said he’d never hate Alex, he’d promised. But what if this was the last straw, the time he’d pushed Thomas’ saintly patience too far? Alex frowned at his own thought process as he walked down the streets, hating when he got like this. All he did was run in circles until he eventually dug himself into a rut he had no hope of escaping.

Shifting his attention, Alex focused on the light flurry of snow falling around him. He loved the snow, would probably always love the snow because it was so pretty, at least while it was falling. It would become grey and slushy once it landed and was pushed to sidewalks to clear the streets, but in the air it was pure white. Alex sighed sadly, hugging his arms around himself. His mamá would’ve loved the snow. She would’ve loved New York.

Distracted by his thoughts, Alex ended up bumping straight into someone, sending him crashing towards the ground. Whoever he ran into thrust a hand out, catching Alex’s and keeping him from completely falling. Once righted, Alex immediately began speaking. “Jeez, my bad, I’m sorry dude-” Looking up at the man, Alex felt his words stop, his brain stop, his heart stop, and the guy’s reassuring “it’s fine, man!” sounded like it came from the end of a very long tunnel.

Because, standing in front of him was John Laurens.

But no, that couldn’t be right, because John was dead, he was _dead, gone gone gone_ but he was also right in front of Alex and even death wasn’t able to keep John from getting to Alex, Alex should’ve known better than to think anything would be able to keep John from Alex, and now John was here to _take him back_ , to _hurt_ him, and Alex couldn’t _breathe_

“Hey, man, you alright?” Alex’s gaze snapped back up at that voice, God, that was _John’s_ voice, Alex would recognize it anywhere. Those were _John’s_ perfect curls, pulled into a frizzy ponytail like how John had always worn them, those were _John’s_ sparkling brown eyes, the man even had _John’s_ smattering of freckles and oh, Alex couldn’t _breathe_

His chest was too tight, his vision was growing blurry and everything sounded muffled, like he was underwater, and maybe he was, maybe that was why he couldn’t breathe, that hurricane was back. He’d been in the eye with Thomas, had a brief respite, but it was back now, and it wasn’t taking prisoners. Alex began sprinting, accidentally brushing into…John??? whoever that was as he went past. He caught the man shouting after him, but Alex kept running because he couldn’t deal with John again, he’d survived those three years but after having Thomas, after relearning what it meant to love and be loved, Alex didn’t think he could survive another day with John, he’d break apart entirely, but wasn’t this just delaying the inevitable, because John was alive and here and he was going to come for Alex because he always did and Alex knew running away only made it worse but he couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. He eventually found an alley and collapsed, shaking and panting and his heart was pounding a stubborn rhythm against his ribs, as if it were trying to pop out of his chest, and he still couldn’t breathe and tears were streaming down his eyes and when had that started?

Alex curled further in on himself, his lungs were burning and his arms hurt and he was crying and he _needed Thomas_ , where was Thomas?

  
♪ ♪ ♪

 

Thomas sat curled up on the couch, a book of poems in his lap. The book was Alex’s, one of the ones he had brought to America with him from St. Croix. Thomas was still overjoyed that his boyfriend trusted him with it. And he enjoyed that the entire thing was in French, as it helped him keep the language fresh in mind. Lafayette had a tendency to speak in French when excited, after all, and Alex had a tendency to revert to the language when panicking, so knowing it was rather useful. His reading was interrupted by his phone’s annoyingly loud ringer. However, any frustration Thomas felt at being interrupted melted once he saw the caller id.

“Hey, darlin’,” Thomas greeted, a soft smile on his face, though it dropped the moment Alex started speaking.

“Th-Thomas! John, he- I saw- John! He’s here, he’s gonna hurt me, I c-can’t-” Thomas felt his heart breaking, as well as some panic of his own rise up, because he couldn’t do much to help Alex if he wasn’t with him, not when Alex was this far gone.

Thomas gently shushed him, getting up and grabbing his coat before heading out the door. “Alex, sweetheart, it’s alright. John’s gone, he can’t hurt you anymore. It’s okay. He’s gone.”

“No! He’s here, I saw him, _I saw him_ , he’ll f-find me and _hurt_ me, Thomas, I can’t do it!” The longer Alex spoke, the more Thomas’ worry increased. Alex was heaving, voice shaky and broken. And he sounded _so scared_. Thomas saw the Target Alex had been intending to go to, but he didn’t see Alex. Continuing to walk, he started looking down alleys, knowing Alex couldn’t have gotten far in his current state.

“It’s okay, Alex. Shh, it’s okay. I’m on my way, alright? Can you breathe for me? In, two, three, four, out, two, three, four, five, six. It’s okay, darlin’.” Thomas cursed when he heard a clattering over the line. Once checking to make sure the call hadn’t dropped, he could only assume Alex had dropped the phone. Thankfully, the next alley revealed a collapsed man with a dark blue coat and a messy black ponytail. Though every part of Thomas wanted to run to Alex and pull him into a bone crushing hug, he knew that with his boyfriend in the middle of a panic attack, it wouldn’t be well received. Instead, he cautiously walked to the smaller man, making his footsteps intentionally loud so Alex could hear him approach. He knelt down beside the man, speaking softly. “Alex, sweetie, it’s okay, shh…can you hear me?”

Alex’s arms were pulled out of the sleeves of the coat, giving him leave to dig his fingers into his arms in a desperate attempt to ground himself, to keep himself afloat when the world was doing it’s damndest to drown him. It wasn’t working, it wasn’t helping, and Alex thought he might be bleeding, but he couldn’t tell. He thought he’d heard Thomas’ voice, but he couldn’t anymore. Thomas had left him, just like his mamá, like his father, like James, like Peter, like Eliza, like Lafayette, like _John_ , but John hadn’t left, had he? Because he was here, was going to hurt Alex and Thomas wasn’t there to help him because Thomas had finally realized how awful Alex was and had finally left.

But then, Alex suddenly heard Thomas’ voice, and it wasn’t distant and tinny like it had been before, it was like a knife cutting through the fogginess in his mind. And Thomas was saying that it was okay, that John was gone. John was gone? John wouldn’t hurt him?

“Yes, Alex, John is gone. He’s dead, baby, he can’t hurt you ever again.” Alex opened his eyes (when had he squeezed them shut?) and looked up and sure enough, there was Thomas, looking worried and slightly scared but still smiling ever so slightly, still looking at Alex like he was perfect, and it couldn’t be real. John had been gone, but now he was here and Thomas was gone. Right? But that was Thomas, kneeling in front of him with his hands held up placatingly and Alex had to be sure.

“T-Thomas…?” And Thomas’ smile grew as he nodded, moved closer and, when Alex didn’t flinch or try to get away, wrapped himself around Alex, murmuring that yes, it was him, he was right here and John was gone. Alex leaned into his boyfriend, exhaustion settling bone deep into him, and he thought maybe he was feeling other things, too, other emotions, but he was far too tired to recognize any of them. He moved his hands, wincing when the nails were removed from his arms, and pushed them back through his sleeves so he could weakly grip Thomas’ coat. It grounded him, being able to feel Thomas there and Alex could smell his cologne and the man was still murmuring softly to him. “Thomas…” Alex’s voice was weak, quiet and barely audible, but his boyfriend still somehow managed to hear him.

“What is it, baby?”

“Thomas, can we go home now?” And Thomas nodded, smiled despite his eyes looking suspiciously watery and helped Alex stand on trembling legs. As they slowly made their way back to the apartment, Alex saw the store he’d ran past in his attempt to escape Jo- that man who’d looked like John, and remembered why he’d left the apartment in the first place, and felt a small twinge in his chest. “I’m sorry, Thomas…”

“It’s okay, darlin’, don’t you even worry about it, okay?” Alex could hear his boyfriend’s southern accent coming out, knew it happened when he was stressed or scared or tired, and even though he wanted to argue that it wasn’t okay, that he shouldn’t have had the panic attack when it wasn’t even John, when nothing really had even happened, Alex just nodded and curled further into Thomas’ side. A small smile curled his lips when he felt Thomas slide an arm around his waist.

When they got back home, Thomas helped Alex out of his coat and led him to the bathroom when he saw the blood on his arms from when he’d dug his fingers into them. Thomas sat Alex on the edge of the tub before pulling out their first aid kit, and Alex felt anxiety bubble up in his gut before he squashed it down, because it was just Thomas. Thomas wouldn’t ever intentionally hurt him. He nodded his consent when Thomas asked if he could press some peroxide to the small cuts, bit down on his tongue at the sting. Smiled at the superman bandaids Thomas applied after gently patting the peroxide dry.

With that done, Thomas grabbed Alex’s hands and carefully tugged him off his perch on the tub, pulling him to their bedroom. The couple collapsed on their bed, with Alex curled up against Thomas. A small whine escaped Alex’s throat, and he maneuvered the two of them until he was laying with Thomas on top of him. He sighed contentedly, and Thomas used to worry about having his full weight on top of Alex, but allowed it once Alex explained it didn’t hurt, he just liked-sometimes needed-the pressure. So Thomas found one of Alex’s hands with his own, and they laid there.

Until Alex broke the silence with a small voice. “I ran into someone on the street. I know…I know _now_ that it wasn’t-wasn’t John, because it couldn’t have been, but _God_ , Thommy, he looked _just like him_ , if I hadn’t been there when the coffin was-I-”

Thomas gripped Alex’s hand just a little tighter. “It’s okay, darlin’.”

He felt Alex shake his head, felt him start trembling again, just slightly. “It…made me realize something. And you’re gonna hate me, it’s so fucked up, Jesus, I’m so fucked up-”

Thomas tilted his head, silenced his boyfriend with a gentle press of the lips. “Hey, you know nothing you could say or do or feel could ever make me hate you. I love you more than anything in this life, and you’re quite the hot mess-”

“Hey!” Alex objected, though Thomas heard the wet laugh his words caused and knew it was okay.

“-but you’re not fucked up. What’d you realize?”

All traces of laughter were gone from Alex’s voice when he spoke next, a good five minutes after Thomas had. “I miss him.” Thomas forced down any reactions for the moment, knowing Alex overanalyzed things like that and not wanting to further upset him. “God help and forgive me, I _miss_ him, Thommy. Even with-with everything he _did_ , I…”

Thomas rolled off of Alex, ignoring the indignant squeak, and gently pulled the smaller man into his arms. He pressed a soft kiss to Alex’s forehead, hating that even now, John was capable of making Alex cry. “That’s natural, darlin’. Despite what he did, you loved him, and you lost him. Missing him is natural, ‘Lex. You’re not fucked up, I promise you.” Alex didn’t quite look like he believed Thomas, but he didn’t argue any further, just pressed his face to Thomas’ chest and let himself cry. Thomas, in turn, wrapped his arms tighter around his boyfriend, letting the familiar weight comfort him, remind him that Alex was here, that he’d be okay.

There were always bumps in the road of recovery. They both knew that. And as long as they were traveling together, they’d be okay.


End file.
